


An Invitation for Elrond

by moosefrog



Series: Raven-borne Messages [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Ravens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 11:30:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12320199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moosefrog/pseuds/moosefrog
Summary: Thorin's getting married and invites the weed-eater who saved his life to his wedding. Elrond's chill. Troc almost dies from eating something unexpected. (Drama raven.)





	An Invitation for Elrond

"Good afternoon, important weed-eater!"

Elrond looked up, surprised to be addressed in such a fashion. Ah, an Ereborean raven. The decorative message tube, in addition to the uniquely dwarfish insult, gave it away. "Good afternoon to you, carrion-eater," he good-naturedly replied.

Troc floofed her feathers up and seemed pleased. This weed-eater got it! "I am Troc, daughter of Roäc, and I bear a message for Lord Elrond of Rivendell from his majesty Thorin King Under the Mountain!" Roäc stood up proudly, puffing out her chest then seemed to catch herself and remembered to stick out her leg with the message tube attached and hop closer to Elrond.

Elrond gently removed the message from its casing and called for a servant to fetch food and water for the weary bird. It was a very long journey from Erebor to Rivendell, even as the raven flies, and it was obvious she had pushed herself because her posture kept drooping.

"How was your flight, Troc?" Elrond was nothing if not polite to his guests, even the winged kind. "I hope you did not have trouble through the mountains?"

"A mountain threw a rock at Troc!" she exclaimed. "A mountain!"

"Ahh, yes, there are giants in the mountains who do resemble the mountains they live among. Strange it would consider you a target. You are small and neither a threat nor a possible meal to such a creature."

Troc shuffled her feet and rustled her wings. She couldn't meet Elrond's gaze. "Troc… Troc may have called it names."

"You called a rock giant… names?" Despite himself, Elrond was curious. How could one insult a rock giant? What language would it even understand? "I would very much like to hear this story."

The story would have to wait as the servant brought in a bowl of cold water and a plate of meat scraps and leftovers from dinner. She set them on the table and Troc hopped over to quickly snag a lump of something she thought was meat. A moment later she let it drop from her beak and made an unhappy noise in the back of her throat.

"Guuuuukkkhhhhkkkk!"

"Ah, yes, that is pressed bean curd. A delicacy in Rivendell."

"Guuuhhkk?" Troc wiped her beak back and forth on the tablecloth then submerged her beak in the bowl of water, blowing bubbles through her nostrils.

"It may be an acquired taste," Elrond said, dryly. Inwardly, he was laughing! This was definitely a raven allied closely with dwarves. Some of Thorin's party had the same reaction when they'd tried pressed bean curd the first time. "Here," he reached across the table to nudge the plate around. "There is some nice pork on this side. Perhaps that will be more pleasing to your palate?"

Judging by the side-eye Troc gave him, she had her doubts. She sidled over to the plate, pausing to rub her beak dry on the tablecloth, and pecked at a piece of pork. She clacked her beak a couple of times as she confirmed it was real meat. Satisfied, she grabbed the biggest hunk of pork and put a couple of hops between herself and Elrond to eat it.

Elrond smoothed out the rolled up parchment Troc had brought him and read it slowly. The raven kept dashing towards the plate to grab food then dashing away again, like her experience with the bean curd had spooked her. She really was an entertaining creature!

The note, however, was a little less entertaining:

> _Elrond._
> 
> _I'm marrying Bilbo. Wedding's this autumn. You're invited because you saved Durin's line. Official invitation to follow._
> 
> _Thorin II Oakenshield_

Elrond frowned and turned the paper over. Nothing further was written. Ah, well it was nice to know Thorin was as curt in his personal communications via letter as he was in person.

But marrying Bilbo Baggins? Elrond had quite liked Bilbo, who had seemed far too sensible to be on a quest to fight a dragon. Ah, but if they were getting married perhaps Bilbo's heart had been doing the thinking by the time they'd been guests in his home? Or, perhaps another organ was doing the thinking for him? Elrond shook his head. It just went to show that despite it being the Third Age these sort of pairings still happened.

It was nice that elves weren't involved in a cross-species union, for once.

Of course, Thorin already had his heirs and dwarves didn't fuss about gender the way Men did so the only problem they'd have to overcome was Bilbo being a hobbit. Dwarves were notoriously secretive around outsiders but if Bilbo was to become consort he'd have to have access to those secrets. He wondered how they were going to overcome that obstacle?

Well, he would definitely be attending the royal Ereborean wedding. Not only would it be politically astute of him to be present but his own curiosity would demand satisfaction. Hrmph. Undoubtedly Thranduil would have been invited but with any luck, he would spend the entire time ignoring him without being obvious about ignoring him. In other words, Thranduil would likely continue to behave in exactly the same way he had since Elrond had told him he was getting married.

"Please bide the night and I shall have a response for you to carry back to Erebor in the morning, Troc." Elrond tucked the message into his sleeve then settled back in his chair. "And, perhaps now that you have eaten, you can regale me with the tale of your encounter with a rock giant?"


End file.
